Nick Wolfe's mind was in turmoil as he struggled to keep his car upright on a road he could barely see.
He knew why the Watchers had missed him at St. Joseph's. He'd been in the sacristy, and they hadn't thought to look beyond the nave. That was understandable. He hadn't expected to go into any private rooms, nor could Joe have imagined he might. Mac, yes; but not him.
He'd stayed at St. Joseph's way longer than he'd intended - not guessing that after weeks of frustration, this would be the day Mac's friends would be needed. When he found Joe's note back at the bar, he'd been horrified by its contents. A crisis so extreme that even Methos - who Nick knew was Mac's father - thought it might be necessary to behead him? Inconceivable!
The directions Joe had left for Nick were clear; on any normal day, they would have been more than adequate. But as if blinding rain and hurricane-force winds weren't enough to cope with, he'd discovered that most road signs had already been blown away. He wasn't familiar with this suburban area, had no landmarks to guide him...was no longer even sure he was headed, as he hoped, west.
He was sure he'd been driving at least three times longer than the trip should have required.
Calm down. Mac can't die today. I know he'll still be alive at a later date.
But...could that "future history" be changed?
Changed, maybe, if I'm not where I should be today to save him?
Not that I have any idea of how to save him...
At least, he told himself, MacLeod was still alive now. If it was true that he was involuntarily causing the hurricane, his death would have ended it.
Unless...
There are probably two other Immortals at that hospital. Mac's father, and his son. Either of them may have insisted on receiving his Quickening...and been unable to control it!
Even as he wrestled with the car, Nick resumed praying.
Desperately.
To Darius.
x
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x
He pulled up to the main entrance of what he thought might be the right building...and was rewarded by sensing another Immortal.
Okay. I'm not sure who this is, but at least I've probably reached the right place.
He struggled out of the car and up to the building. After a predictable battle with the door, he was yanked inside - by Richie.
"Thank God you're here!" Richie gave him a brotherly hug. "At least we know you're all right."
"What the hell is going on? I mean, beyond what Joe said in his note?"
"Right now, I don't know. I don't know whether Mac is dead or alive!" A grim Richie gave him a quick summary of what had happened before he came downstairs. "I'm not sure whether I could have seen any sign of a Quickening from this distance - like, bursts of light in the stairwell. I haven't seen anything, but that's no proof it didn't happen.
"I've been trying to decide what to do. I hadn't expected having to wait this long for someone to come and tell me it was over. And the storm isn't letting up..."
"Damn!" Nick shook his head. "I'd never realized how we've come to take cell phones for granted. It's maddening to have friends that near us, and not be able to call and ask them.
"But the storm's still raging suggests that for some reason, they haven't killed Mac yet. I vote we go up and find out why. If it...happens...while we're on our way, neither of us will be at risk from the Quickening. Methos, who you think wanted it, will be closer."
Without hesitation, Richie said, "Agreed. I was on the verge of deciding that myself."
x
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x
As they climbed the stairs, battling the unearthly wind, Nick thought about what Richie had told him. How neither Methos nor Joe had been able to guess that secret name - or if they did think of it as one of many possibilities, had failed to recognize it as the one, and thus couldn't use it to rescue MacLeod.
And he had a wild idea.
That couldn't have occurred to him before the events of that day.
What I'm thinking is...bizarre.
But all of this is bizarre. Hell, even the existence of Immortals is bizarre!
Given that, what I'm thinking is just crazy enough to be true.
They heard loud, angry voices as soon as they reached the third-floor landing. Moments later, they found Methos and Joe in a screaming match with Molari. The combatants stopped yelling long enough to acknowledge Nick's arrival, and he demanded to know what was going on.
To his horror, he learned the only reason MacLeod hadn't already been beheaded was that the Watchers had mislaid his katana, and Joe refused to use anything else.
"I just got here," he pointed out. "And I want a chance to go in there and talk to him, too."
"No!" Molari was livid. "We've allowed way too much time for this already. I'm sorry - I'll carry this guilt for the rest of my life - but the only solution now is to kill him. Kill him quickly, before he kills us - the only people who understand what's happening and have a chance to stop it!"
"What I want to do won't take long," Nick argued. "I mean to try something that hasn't been tried yet. I think I may actually have guessed the secret name! So I want to test how he responds to hearing just that one name. If it isn't the right one - if hearing it doesn't help him - I'll give up and come out."
That proposal stunned everyone. Joe, Methos, and Richie all began clamoring for Molari to let him try.
And Nick had a hand on his sword-hilt. If I have to draw it and let the Watchers know I'm Immortal, so be it. I'm sure Richie - and Methos - will use theirs too, if need be. They'll even be willing to kill.
But no one had to show a sword. Molari said grudgingly, "All right. It'll take a few minutes for us to get another weapon for Joe or someone else to use, anyway."
Nick saw Richie roll his eyes. Did the Watchers not even realize he, a known Immortal, had one with him?
Thank God for small favors, Nick reflected. Or maybe, thank Darius.
x
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x
Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he looked through the window of the cell. A crazed thing that bore no resemblance to Duncan MacLeod, racing mindlessly back and forth, hurling itself against the walls and bouncing off them. When it faced the window, it showed no sign of perceiving a difference between human onlookers and the padded wall. Its mouth was agape in a scream no one could hear...saliva ran unchecked into its beard and down its chin...
Methos said, loudly enough to be heard over the raging wind, "It's much worse when you're in there. The sound, the stench.
"When he isn't on his feet, he's rolling around on the floor. And they told us he's been like this 24/7. He seems to be in unbearable pain."
Nick took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm going in." Then he looked at the older Immortal and said - as gently as he could, under the circumstances - "Remember, I have a definite idea about a name, but it's still only a guess. No guarantees."
"I understand."
As an afterthought, Methos told him, "One more thing. There's no actual wind in there. But that can make it all the more unnerving when you're swept off your feet and tossed around."
"Hmm." Nick looked at the door. It had not a mere knob but a heavy handle, which looked as sturdy as the iron door itself. "Is there a twin to that handle on the inside?"
"Yes..."
"Then at the outset, I'll stay right inside the door and try to hold onto the handle, so I won't be swept off my feet. If I can do that without looking too awkward, I may seem like a more 'authoritative' figure. With no wind, he'll be able to hear me from anywhere in the cell."
As Methos and Richie had done before him, he removed his raincoat - and with it, laid aside the deadly weapon it concealed.
And then he went into what he couldn't help thinking of as "the lion's den."
x
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He stood as he'd planned. His hands, held not too awkwardly behind his back, gripped that door handle. Definitely resisting some force that wanted to send him flying into the air - though there was no other indication the suffering creature in the cell had even noticed him.
And he was sure no lip-reader outside the window could see his face. If I have hit on the secret name, it has to be kept secret.
He gathered his courage. And then, in a peremptory voice, he called out the name he'd guessed. "*******!"
The creature who'd been dashing back and forth, screaming, let out one more shriek - then stopped dead in his tracks. Stood stock still. Trembling - his entire body was a-quiver - but standing in one place, with his back to Nick.
And Nick realized there was no longer a force trying to pull him off his feet.
Cautiously, he let go of the door handle. Then he said gently, "That's right, *******. You know who you are, don't you? I'm a friend, here to help you. Can you turn around and look at me, *******?"
Slowly, in a shambling way, the creature did manage to turn around.
He looked dazed, confused. Badly in need of that help. But tears were welling up in the eyes that met Nick's...and those tears were very human.
Oh yes, you're no longer a "thing." To me, you are and always will be Duncan MacLeod. And probably, you'll always think of yourself as Duncan MacLeod. But you have another name, a more important identity. And deep down, you already know or at least suspect it.
You know the name. And you also know there must have been a reason Richie wasn't allowed to kill you, back at the turn of the millennium.
He said quietly, "That's good, *******. I'm going to come to you now...is that all right? Remember, I'm a friend. My name is Nick Wolfe, and you know me. But it's okay if you don't recognize me. I wouldn't know your name if I wasn't a friend, *******."
Walking slowly toward the other man, he continued in a soothing voice, "Your mother gave you your true name, *******. You were very fortunate in your parents. They loved each other, loved and wanted you. They only gave you away to keep you safe. And your mother gave you a very special name, for that same reason...to keep you safe.
"There was a man for whose help your mother was very grateful. She wanted to honor him by naming you for him. But that would have been too obvious. So instead, she gave you a name she thought would have pleased him...even though he'd never know."
By now he could touch the trembling man he couldn't help thinking of simply as Mac. He put his arms around him, and whispered into his ear, "Your mother did exactly this, *******. Right after you were born. Whispered into your ear, 'Your name is *******.' "
Pulling back, he said aloud, "I know you've been confused, *******. But now you're safe. The pain is gone, isn't it? You can feel safe in your own identity as *******. Let everything else drift away."
MacLeod made a soft whimpering sound, and sank down on his knees.
Nick went down with him. Gently freed him from the straitjacket and helped him lie down on the floor, his head on Nick's lap. The tremors had stopped, and he lay very still, letting Nick hold his hand.
"That's good, *******. You can rest now. Your true name fits you like a glove. Can you feel that? Let it slip over you, envelop you, protect you. Shutting out everything else. In another sense, you can think of it as a shield. *******, *******, *******."
I don't know whether he's capable of understanding anything I've been saying. He may just be reacting to the name itself, and a soothing voice. But for now, that's enough.
Nick sat there, quietly, until MacLeod slipped into what might have been either sleep or unconsciousness. Checked his watch - obviously, no one's going to interfere - and allowed another fifteen minutes.
Then he raised his hand to signal to the Watchers that they were ready to come out.
x
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x
MacLeod was carried out on a stretcher. "I don't know how much time he'll need to recover from this," Nick told the others. "But I'm sure he will recover."
He himself, despite having sat motionless for an hour, was so spent that he had to be helped out of the cell.
He noticed that both the other Immortals, and Joe, had tearstained faces. As did he. Now they all embraced...and shed more tears, of pure relief.
Joe informed the Watchers that they were taking MacLeod home to his barge. No one dared object. Molari laid MacLeod's katana next to him on the stretcher; they'd found it moments after Nick went into the cell.
Nick still felt overwhelmed by what had happened. As he was standing beside the stretcher, stroking MacLeod's hair, he barely heard Richie's attempts to get his attention. At last the younger man pulled him away, less than gently. "Come on! I have to show you this, before it disappears!"
"Wh-what?"
Richie dragged him to a window. And then, breathless, he saw it.
What must have been the most magnificent of all rainbows.